


let it snow

by karasunotsubasa



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Folklore, Happy Ending, M/M, Yuri on Yuletide, snegurochka - Freeform, some drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 00:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13178478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunotsubasa/pseuds/karasunotsubasa
Summary: "Mama, how do you know when you love someone?" he asked often when he was younger and his mother used to do his hair in the early mornings.She only smiled at him softly. She always smiled at him, back then."I'll tell you when you're older," she kept on saying. "For now just feel, Vitenka."





	let it snow

**Author's Note:**

> written for the yuri on yuletide event as a gift to [@sinamour](http://sinamour.tumblr.com/)! it's a little play on 'the spring fairytale' by aleksandr ostrovsky with a more romantic twist to it and a happy ending to please all ;3c since we got that official art of victor dressed as snegurotchka I couldn't help but want to write something like this so I had lots of fun doing this prompt!  
> hope you all enjoy it just as much~

 

He was there again. The hunter.

Victor noticed him as soon as he reached the edge of the small clearing where the stream running through the entire forest slipped into a crystalline pond. He wasn't seen, not yet, so Victor took the chance to hide behind one of the trees and simply watched. Because there was a lot to see: the hunter's jaw was moving as he chewed on a piece of dried meat, the muscles of his handsome face shifting and playing with the lightspots that the pond water bathed him in; his hands were moving as well – fingers dexterously worked on fixing a part of a net that must have been torn by a trashing rabbit that now lied dead and tied at the hunter's feet; every time the hunter pulled on the wicker, the biceps under the thin jacket bunched up and Victor would get a formidable display of strength from the mortal, human body.

His breath, now turned into an excited puff of cold air that left part of the tree trunk covered in frost, came shallow with a needy whine.

It was his first mistake, Victor realized.

The hunter grabbed a long knife that was resting at his side and turned right towards Victor's hideout.  Before Victor could flee into the depths of the forest and back to his parent's palace, there were footsteps coming from the opposite side of the clearing. Victor could hear the soft crunch of snow under the heavy boots more than he could see the approaching figures, but he knew it was time to go. He moved back and–

(That was the second one.)

–he stepped right onto Makkachin's paw.

Makka's jowl of pain was loud in the stilted silence of the clearing. Victor's fingers turned cold with fear when he looked back, because yes, the hunter was now staring straight at them. It was not how Victor imagined their first meeting to go after that unforgettable night of the winter solstice, but he would've taken it if not for the others rushing through the snow to join the hunter.

Brown eyes, nearly black, didn't leave Victor's face for a second, but Victor knew he couldn't stay. Not now.

So he turned on his heel, chancing one last glance at the hunter who was still watching him like a winter miracle – which made Victor's skin crackle happily like fresh ice in the sun – and then Victor was gone.

 

 

***

 

 

His third mistake was actually coming back.

He shouldn't have. He knew that. But Victor was never one to listen to the warnings of his parents, to the warnings of anyone really. So he came back, tracked the prints that fresh snow hadn't covered yet, and found him once more: tending to a bonfire while his companions slept under pelts of wolf skin.

It didn't take long for the hunter to notice him. His face was only half illuminated by the fire, but he looked just as beautiful, just as handsome as every other time Victor had seen him.

Unwittingly, Victor stepped into the clearing without invitation.

"Hi," he breathed out a treacherous puff of cold air. Horrified, he clapped a hand over his mouth.

He needn't have worried about it, though. The hunter didn't notice anything abnormal. Or if he had, he chose not to comment on it and Victor was thankful.

"Hello," the man said. His voice was warm and his eyes were dark, inviting. "Is that your wolf?"

Victor didn't look back – he simply lifted his hand and Makkachin stepped to his side, nuzzling his big head into his palm. Victor smiled.

"His name is Makkachin," Victor said. "He's usually pretty harmless. Unless you're a danger to me... are you?"

"No, no, of course not!" The hunter quickly sheathed his knife and lifted both hands up to show he meant no harm.

Victor grinned. "Fantastic! Can we join you? Just for a while."

"Ah, you must be cold! Forgive my manners." The hunter moved over on the log he was sitting on and patted the offered spot with a hand. "Please, sit. Do you want something to eat? Drink?"

Victor moved closer to the bonfire, carefully, as if the flames were about to jump at him.

"I don't get cold," he replied, when he was finally sure the fire won't hurt him.

He didn't refuse a warm bowl of soup that was handed to him. It wasn't much, but the warmth of the food burned in Victor's mouth, throat, chest, stomach, until his cheeks flushed and his skin covered in sweat. The hunter smiled at him as the heat curled around him and Victor could've sworn it was enough to melt him, but he was still sat next to him so it couldn't be.

"I've watched you," Victor said to his bowl. Only after he'd spoken the words did he realize how it must have sounded. He cleared his throat awkwardly, but forged on: "Since... winter solstice. And a few times before then." He lifted his gaze to find brown eyes looking at him in surprise. "You seemed sad. Are you still?"

"I've noticed you," the hunter replied. "Two days ago, and one time before. Do you live here in the forest?"

Victor pouted. "I asked you first."

"I asked you second," came a cheeky reply.

Victor's mouth dropped open. The hunter was teasing him! Before he could shoot anything back, the man gave a small laugh that made the tips of Victor's ears itch when blood rushed to his head – it sounded lovely.

"I'm better now," the hunter admitted. "But I'm still grieving. My dog died a few nights before the solstice."

As if sensing the shift in the mood, Makkachin pressed his head between them and nudged the hunter with his nose. The man startled and looked from Makka to Victor with uncertainty written all over his face. Victor quickly recognized it for what it was.

"You can pet him if you want," he said. Makka's tail thumped in the snow a few times as if he agreed.

The hunter swallowed thickly and lifted a hand. It shook a little when Makkachin sniffed at his fingers. His fear disappeared the moment his hand slipped into the thick, but incredibly soft fur on Makkachin's neck. The smile that brightened the hunter's face was probably the best one Victor has seen. Except for that one when they danced next to the bonfire during the solstice–

"He's beautiful," the hunter said in a reverent voice.

_You're beautiful_ , Victor thought, watching the man smile.

"Hear that, Makka?" Victor asked instead. "You're being praised."

Makkachin's tail whopped the snow again. Victor laughed.

"Makkachin is the best, most beautiful, and fluffiest boy in the world," the hunter cooed at the wolf who was nuzzling into his hand like a domesticated puppy.

Victor would've been content just watching them both, but the hunter's eyes – now filled with inner warmth and something Victor couldn't understand but knew only in name – turned up and paralyzed Victor on the spot.

"So this is Makkachin," the hunter said, nodding at the wolf. "I'm Yuuri. And you are...?"

Victor swallowed. _Yuuri_. He licked his lips and breathed:

"Victor."

Their hands brushed when Yuuri took the empty bowl back from Victor's hands.

"It's nice to meet you both," he said. Victor couldn't agree more.

 

 

***

 

 

_Yuuri._

Victor's grin was wide as he skipped between the snow covered bushes.

_Yuuri._

The hunter's name was melodic, beautiful, and reminded Victor of the euphoria of winter solstice. Of that day he'd stumbled onto the townspeople's festival, right in the middle of the forest: when he'd fallen right into the warmth of strong arms that whisked him into a night of dancing and twirling and spinning, until the snow under Victor's feet has melted away into a spring of flowers.

_Yuuri. Yuuri. Yuuri._

Makkachin nipped at his heels and Victor laughed, playing along. He allowed himself to be chased, laughing, giggling, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. The winds have picked up, the snow kept on falling, and Victor kept on running and laughing, until he found himself where he wanted to be the most.

"Yuuri!"

He jumped at the unsuspecting hunter and as they both tumbled into the fresh snow, Victor couldn't stop – he kept on laughing, even when Yuuri grunted and grumbled and threw a fistful of snow into Victor's face. He was just so–

 

 

***

 

 

_"Mama, how do you know when you love someone?" he asked often when he was younger and his mother used to do his hair in the early mornings._

_She only smiled at him softly. She always smiled at him, back then._

_"I'll tell you when you're older," she kept on saying. "For now just feel, Vitenka."_

_The beautiful glass comb ran through his silver hair, gentle and caring, while his mother's warm fingers braided the tresses into a delicate structure that sat atop Victor's hair like a crown._

_"Wow," young Victor whispered, awestruck. "That's so pretty! Thank you, mamochka!"_

_Spring smiled at him, putting a freshly bloomed pansy behind his ear. "You're welcome, my sweet child."_

 

 

***

 

 

_"What is love?" Victor sighed, years later, still drunk on ale and slumped over the breakfast table under his father's disapproving eye._

_"Me, sitting here, while you're whining pathetically about who knows what," his father said, face stone-cold._

_Victor snorted at him and continued sulking. He should've known better than ask such questions of the man whose heart was a brick of ice and nothing more._

 

 

***

 

 

_"Mama," Victor mumbled, head on her shoulder, while the outside world was swallowed by a snow storm. "I want... I want–"_

_His voice was drowned by the howl of wind and he shivered inside her arms: the cold and the snow seemed to warn him against speaking, against looking for comfort, but Victor couldn't... he couldn't... no longer–_

_"Please," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Please..."_

_"You can't have both, Vitenka," Spring said. "You need to chose, my sweet."_

_"I don't–" he choked on the ice that was clogging his throat. "I can't–"_

_"You have to," she pressed, holding him closer. "You have to... or we'll lose you forever."_

_His tears fell, crystals and diamonds that humans would wage wars over, but to Victor they only looked pathetic. He was weak, he was broken, he wasn't whole... and he wanted to be. He wanted to feel._

_But feeling meant dying, so could he? Could he really...?_

 

 

***

 

 

"Mama, I'm ready."

 

 

***

 

 

He didn't feel different, not by much. The crown of evergreens, as his mother had called them, sat on Victor's head like it was made for him – and it was. There were thorn marks on his mother's slim fingers, while the leaves of the crown sprouted red fruit like pearls of blood that must have dropped from the cuts on her hands. He was wearing her pain, her labour, refusing the gift of eternal life she'd given him in exchange for... what?

"I don't feel anything," he said. Worried, he bit his lip. "What if it didn't work?"

Spring touched his cheek. "It did. Just wait and see."

"Okay." He closed his eyes briefly and kissed her wrist in thanks. "Okay."

 

 

***

 

 

When he saw Yuuri the next day, it almost felt like he was seeing him for the first time.

"Victor?" Yuuri asked.

Head tilted to the side. Hair windswept, fluffy like the snowflakes falling around them. Eyes warm and fond, soft as the flames by the bonfire had been when they first talked. A small smile on his cold-flushed face, beautiful, beautiful, _beauti_ –

"Yuuri," Victor breathed.

His heart has never trembled in his chest, it never skipped out of tune, never choked the courage out of his lungs... but it was doing it now.

"Yuuri," Victor said again, because that was all he could say.

He took a step, one, hesitant, but Yuuri took three fast ones and came to stand right before him.

"Are you okay?" Yuuri asked. "You look so pale..."

A warm hand lifted to touch Victor's cheek and its warmth had seeped into Victor's body, setting his face alight and his heart ablaze.

"Yuuri," Victor keened this time. How could he put into words the feeling he was experiencing for the first time now? How could he make Yuuri understand?

"What? What is it?"

There was worry written all over Yuuri's face, but his lips curled in a smile that Victor had seen before. He'd been seeing it for a while now, yet he'd never noticed. Yuuri's eyes softened with a warmth that Victor knew but could never name, and his touch... _oh_ , his touch... It was tender and caring, almost like Spring's touch, almost like his mother's, but not, but _different_.

Victor pulled Yuuri close and rested his cheek against Yuuri's. It was warm, so warm. And Yuuri's heart sung against Victor's chest, against his own heart like it was calling out to him and asking him into another wild night of dancing.

"Yuuri," Victor sighed.

This time, Yuuri laughed. "What's gotten into you?"

Victor only tightened his arms around him and laughed into Yuuri's shoulder, too, because there were no words that could describe what it was that has finally sunk its claws into him.

_Love_ , Victor thought between his giggles. _Wow, amazing._

 

 

***

 

 

"Have you ever left the forest?" Yuuri asked one day.

They were sitting on a boulder under a leafless willow, watching how the droplets of water dipped from the melting icicles scattered across the branches.

"I can't," Victor replied. "It's not safe for me. Or that's what my parents keep saying whenever I ask."

Yuuri hummed. "They may be right. The towns can be dangerous. There's some bad people who could hurt you to take your money, food, supplies... but it's also really beautiful. Maybe I could take you someday?"

Victor grinned. "Would you?"

"If you want to," Yuuri agreed, a slight flush to his cheeks. "Where would you want to go? We could stay at the nearby village, or go to the next town over – it's a little bigger, more things to see – or we could go to the capitol? I hear it's beautiful in spring–"

"I want to see the place you were born," Victor interrupted him. He pulled his legs up and wrapped his arm around them, resting his cheek on his knees while smiling at the surprised but undeniably pleased look on Yuuri's face. "Tell me about it. Where were you born?"

Yuuri looked away from him. His eyes were unseeing, distant, submerged in memories, when he spoke next.

"A small, port town called Hasetsu," Yuuri said. "It's on the coast, so we have access to the sea all year round. There's many travellers coming through: on ships and on land. We have hot springs there, too. Have you ever been to any?" Victor mutely shook his head, but Yuuri only nodded. "We'll try it then. It's a little similar to bathing in an open pond, but the water is boiling hot."

"Wow," Victor whispered, careful not to break Yuuri out of his trance.

Yuuri smiled at that, but Victor was fairly certain the smile wasn't for him. It didn't matter, though. Just watching Yuuri like this was enough.

"My parents run one of the... how do you say this... inns?" Yuuri made a small sound of frustration as if he still wasn't happy with the word he chose. "We could stay there and take walks on the beach, or play in the water when it gets warm. You could meet my family, too. Did I tell you I have a sister?"

"You didn't," Victor replied. "Younger than you?"

Yuuri grinned. "Older."

"Oh."

"She'll probably tease you a lot at first, but she has a good heart," Yuuri explained. "What about you? Do you have siblings?"

"It's just me and my parents," Victor replied. "And Makkachin, of course."

Makka's head shifted towards him and Victor blew a kiss at him. Seeing that it was nothing else, Makkachin returned to his nap and Victor chuckled.

"Does anyone else live in the forest? Apart from your family?" Yuuri asked, curious.

"Not that I know of," Victor said. "I've spent my entire life running around these trees and the hunters are the only other people I've seen."

"That must have been lonely," Yuuri said quietly. He took Victor's hand in one of his – a scarred, callused hand of a working man that slid over Victor's unmarred skin like tree bark, hard and rough – and squeezed. "Were you lonely, Victor? Is that why you came to me?"

_Was it?_

Victor almost laughed when he realized that yes, yes it was.

"I didn't even know I was lonely before I met you," he said out loud. He turned his hand and slid his fingers between Yuuri's own. It felt right. "But yes, you're right. I was lonely. I'm not anymore."

"I'm glad."

Yuuri's smile, then, was the most beautiful of the day, Victor decided. Of the week. Of the month. Actually–

 

 

***

 

 

"We're leaving," Yuuri said the next time they'd met.

The warmth of the long hug they reluctantly separated from just seconds before lingered on Victor's skin, but his entire body felt cold in an instant. His face must have shown his shock and disappointment, because Yuuri's hands that had already began withdrawing stopped right above Victor's elbows as if he was as afraid of letting go just as much as Victor.

"Just for a while," Yuuri rushed to add. "We're going to the big town across the valley to sell the rabbit pelts for a better price. We'll be back."

Victor nodded, numbly.

"How long will you be gone for?"

"Two weeks, maybe more," Yuuri replied.

He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he hesitated, bit his lip, and stayed silent. He wasn't gone yet, he was standing _right there_ , but Victor was already feeling his absence grow and chill him to the bone. It felt like once again his heart turned into a chunk of unfeeling ice inside his chest.

He swallowed, even though it was hard.

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

"Okay?" Yuuri asked, trying to look into Victor's eyes, but Victor avoided his gaze until Yuuri touched his jaw with gentle fingers and made him look. "I promise I'll come back. And when I do, we'll leave for Hasetsu. How about that?"

"Really?" Victor asked, soft.

He didn't know which made him feel better: Yuuri's promise to come back, the trip to Yuuri's hometown, or the touch of his thumb that hadn't stopped rubbing the line of Victor's jaw in soothing circles. All three were good, but combined? Victor could feel the beginnings of a smile on his face.

"Really," Yuuri promised again, smiling right back.

"I'll miss you," Victor told him, as if it wasn't obvious enough.

It made Yuuri blush and that, in turn, heated Victor's own face when he realized what he'd said.

"Hurry back!" he added quickly right before he stepped away from Yuuri.

He waved awkwardly, turned on his heel and – cheeks burning, ears stinging, nose flushed till the very tip – escaped as fast as he could. His heart skipped as he ran between the trees, holding up the wreath crown atop his head.

A test, he decided once he'd left Yuuri well behind. A test to see if what he felt was real.

And if it was, which he was certain of, he was going to tell him. _Yes._

 

 

***

 

 

Each day Victor walked through the forest, each day missing Yuuri more than the one before. The time seemed to drag: minutes stretched into hours and boredom was the only thing Victor could feel. That, and loneliness.

He sat by the pond, where he'd watched Yuuri skin rabbits and smile at him with blood splattered on his chin that Victor carefully wiped with his sleeve. He walked around the willow they'd always trade stories under, admiring the persistence of the tiny, tiny buds that began to show on the bare branches even though the ground was still covered in snow. He hovered near the edge of the forest, looking out into the vast fields of snow in hopes to see Yuuri's silhouette making his way back to him...

But Yuuri was gone.

And Victor could hardly stand it.

 

 

***

 

 

"Mama," he said one day. "What is this?"

There was a veil over his eyes, almost like spider web, that made even something as small as keeping his eyes open difficult. So he closed them. And sighed.

He felt heavy, lethargic. His body was unusually hot, but chilly shivers ran down his spine when he moved. When he kept still, too. It felt awful.

"You're sick, my boy," Spring said, running a soothing hand through his damp hair. "Lovesick."

Victor's thoughts immediately rushed to Yuuri: his eyes, his face, his smile. The ache inside Victor's chest only grew. He whimpered.

"Does love always feel like that?" he asked.

"Not always, no," his mother replied. "Only sometimes. When you love someone far more than they love you."

_No. That wasn't true. It couldn't be–_

"Shush, my sweet," Spring said. Victor's breathing was shallow, his lungs in pain every time he needed air. "It'll pass soon."

.

.

.

It didn't.

 

 

***

 

 

The last of the snows were melting by the time Victor could walk again. The sickness pinned him to the bed, stole all the strength from his body, but there was one thing it couldn't touch – the wreath crown that rested atop Victor's head once more, making his heart open and full.

He'd made it into the forest, to the pond, to the willow, but Yuuri still wasn't there. It's been more than two weeks now and he should've returned, but _he wasn't there_. What was there instead was the returning ache inside Victor's chest: with every step he took it grew; with every place he'd seen, empty, that reminded him of Yuuri his heart withered.

At the edge of the forest, Victor stopped at the sight of tracks in the muddy ground. Boots. Just like the ones that belonged to–

Yuuri's figure was harder to recognize between the browns and greys and greens of the fields beyond the forest line, but Victor couldn't be mistaken. His feet carried him past the trees before he knew it. The aching inside him grew hotter, more suffocating, more unbearable once he got out into the open.

"Yuuri!"

His voice echoed. Victor could hear the desperation lacing the syllables, but he couldn't be bothered with it for now. Not when Yuuri's figure stopped and slowly turned back to the forest.

"You're back," Victor whispered to himself.

His eyes grew hot with tears, and his face burned. The sun peeked from behind the clouds just as Yuuri started running towards him. Victor would've wanted to do that too, but his feet didn't move. He looked down – right into a puddle of melted snow where once his feet used to be.

The choked sound of panic that left his mouth was drowned by Yuuri's voice.

"Victor!" There was fear on Yuuri's face, fear, instead of the happiness Victor expected, and it hurt. _It hurt._ "You're melting! What's wrong, what's happening? Oh no, oh no, what do I do?"

"Yuuri," Victor repeated his name and the sun shone harder. "The trees– Behind the trees–"

Victor's breathing was harsh. He wasn't in pain. It tickled, mostly. There was steam rising from where the sun had touched his body and it made Victor gasp for air. It was quite ironic that what he was suffocating on was his own melted flesh.

Yuuri wasted no time in bending down and picking Victor up into his arms. He raced back into the forest, between the tree line, and there, he ducked behind one of the big oaks to hide Victor completely from sunlight. He shielded Victor with his own body from the remnants of the burning. Only then did Victor notice the tremble in the hands that wrapped around his thighs for support and the quiver in the shoulders that Yuuri hunched in relief once Victor stopped steaming.

His legs were gone, Victor could tell. From knees down there was nothing but jagged ice that did not yet managed to melt. His face and hands must have looked terrible as well. Where Yuuri was holding him, his fingers made dents in the softened flesh of Victor's body, but those Victor could not be upset about – they were Yuuri's marks on him, and he would wear them with pride.

"You're back," Victor said. They were both panting: from fear, from pain, from their mad escape. "You came back."

"I promised I would," Yuuri reminded him.

His voice was high, almost on the verge of panic, but he wasn't looking Victor in the eye. With one hand Victor lifted his chin. There were unshed tears in Yuuri's wide, terrified eyes and when their gazes met and the first of many rolled down Yuuri's cheeks, Victor suddenly realized that they were for him. Yuuri was crying _for him_.

"What happened?" Yuuri asked. "What was that? I thought you were– I thought you would–"

Yuuri swallowed, visibly shaken, and Victor felt the warmth in his heart, in his body return twice fold. It wasn't painful or uncomfortable as the sunlight was, no. It was just... warm.

"I was so scared," Yuuri admitted in a whisper.

His bottom lip trembled. He bit on it to stop it, but Victor found a better way. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Yuuri's. There were no words needed, no more. Yuuri stiffened under Victor's touch, but he didn't pull back and after a moment his lips pressed back against Victor's. They were hot, searing against the cold, yet it wasn't uncomfortable one bit. It was the kind of feeling that Victor was experiencing for the first time, but he already knew he wanted more.

Yuuri pulled away all too soon and Victor would've whined at the loss if it wasn't for the way Yuuri has shifted now – pushed Victor's back flush against the tree bark and held him up with his hips and one hand wrapped around him, while the other lifted to Victor's cheek. The touch was soft and tentative, as if Yuuri was scared of hurting him.

"What–" Yuuri started, but ran out of breath before he could finish. He licked his lips and Victor followed the move with his eyes, wondering what it would feel like to have that tongue run over his own.

"What are you?" Yuuri asked again.

Victor smiled. "Whatever you want me to be."

"That's not– No." Yuuri shook his head. His mouth set, a determined line. "I want you to be yourself, but that wasn't what I asked. _What_ are you? What happened there? Why did you..."

He trailed off, looking down at the stumps that were left of Victor's legs. Ah.

"My name's Victor," Victor said. "I didn't lie to you about this. About anything."

"But how–" Yuuri frowned when Victor pressed a finger against his lips.

"My name's Victor," Victor repeated. "I'm a child of Spring and Frost."

 

 

***

 

 

Before the snows came again, by the strength of their own hands, they raised a house: at the clearing near the pond, where from the small window Victor could see Yuuri wash off after a hunt every morning. It was nothing much – a space for the hearth and a bed, a table, and a cot for Makkachin – but it was theirs.

Victor _loved_ it.

He _loved_ their home.

He _loved_ Makkachin, more than ever.

He _loved_ waking up under the bear pelts on the colder days leading up to winter. He _loved_ waking up with Yuuri's arm wrapped around him. He _loved_ waking up with his nose buried in Yuuri's neck.

He _loved_ cooking the meat Yuuri brought.

He _loved_ welcoming Yuuri back on the doorstep whenever he returned from a hunt or a trip to the nearby town.

He _loved_ the expression Yuuri made the first time he'd met his parents, so bewildered and confused, but still respectful and lovely. He _loved_ that his mother loved Yuuri as much as he did.  

The wreath crown still sat on Victor's head, beautiful and evergreen like the plant it was made of, and every morning Yuuri put it on him: again, and again, and again. Victor _loved_ that, too.

But most of all–

Makkachin lifted his head from his spot, clearly hearing something Victor could not. The great body of the wolf lifted effortlessly off the wooden floor and skidded towards the door, scratching at it before Victor could even open it. He did so with a grin, already expecting what he'd see on the other side and yes, he was right.

–most of all, he _loved_ –

Makkachin bolted down the snowy path, jumping on the laughing figure with a loud, happy bark. Victor chuckled, stepping down into the snow himself. His new legs didn't feel the cold. They were made of his father's ice, so, barefoot, Victor came closer. Smiling, he looked down into an equally happy face.

–he _loved_ –

"Welcome home," he said.

– _Yuuri_.

"I'm back," Yuuri smiled up at him.

Around them, the snow was softly falling.

 

**Author's Note:**

> don't you ever feel like even the canon victor is a child of spring and frost bc _d a m n_


End file.
